Late Nights All Alone
by Mollyscribbles
Summary: [Maxwell's Silver Hammer] Joan was quizzical studied pataphysical science in the home. Late nights all alone, with a test tube.


Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of the Beatles or any other copyright holder. 

Author's Notes: A songfic that is not a songfic; Maxwell's Silver Hammer intrigued me from a story perspective.

* * *

When Joan opened her door that evening while preparing for her date, she honestly didn't expect what happened next. But we're getting ahead of ourselves here . . .

Joan Ono was smart. Scary-smart. Always had been. A geek from childhood, she was variously labeled a prodigy, a dork, and a show-off. This did not work to her advantage. Being a geek in school is difficult. Being a female geek, moreso. In the 1950s, when a young girl was encouraged that a good mind had no benefit beyond helping you land a nice husband to take care of you, it was virtually unheard of. She skipped a few grades; she would have skipped more, had so many teachers not taken offense to her corrections of the class material.

At sixteen, she entered Vassar's science program on a full scholarship. She figured it would be easy enough, a good general science program before she settled on a specific field. Nothing had really drawn her attention yet, and it was good to keep her options open. She was a genius, but her unconventional methods, continued habit of correcting teachers, and low social skills won her no friends among either staff or students. At the end of her first year, they effectively kicked her out under the pretense of early graduation. She deserved it without question, and had certainly done enough research to earn it, but it wasn't a wish to recognize her achievements that motivated it.

She was fine with this, as she had come to the conclusion that no field currently existed to properly cover what it was she wanted to achieve. She won a grant, and took the money to set up a nice home lab.

She was never one for socialization, as it was incredibly rare that anyone would look beyond the label of 'ubergeek' to bother to speak to her. The era was not supportive of geeks, female geeks especially. She was a freak among freaks. Annoyed at the obligation society in general placed on females to date – and the loss of worth she saw for them in the 'free love' era – Joan declared herself to be married to science.

On a rare excursion from her home, she attended a science conference to give a presentation on her latest theories regarding all things pataphysical. She was impressed by some of the minds she met there . . . and decided that, as science was a polygamist, it might not mind if they had a common spouse. She met Maxwell Edison that day.

He was a prodigy in his own right, but only now at the age of eighteen had he attempted – and passed with flying colors – the entrance exam to Harvard medical school. He wasn't anywhere near Joan's level, but it was clear from her conversations with him that he could be so much more if only he applied himself. But he didn't think she was a crackpot, and could understand some of the experiments she discussed. She figured he was a real find, one of a kind, and gave him her number.

The conference had inspired a new experiment, and after a marathon session in the lab she had pretty much entirely forgotten about him. But he didn't forget about her, and called her up for a date the next week. She was caught somewhat off-guard, but agreed. Applying herself to some sociology texts she had around, she picked up enough to get an idea of what was expected of her. She set up an alarm system to ensure she got ready in time, set out a clean outfit to change into, and returned to work.

This was her typical routine, even as they began to date on a regular basis. Things were kept casual, as neither had seen much point in relationships before and didn't treat this one with much priority – beyond being the highest priority either had regarding the social aspect of their lives, of course. Most of their dates would be spent in deep conversation over dinner. Generally somewhere nice, as diners and fast food places tended to get them kicked out after they either analyzed the contents of their meal or decided to start a fun experiment with it.

Maxwell had a few odd quirks she noticed – high levels of schadenfraude, interesting theories on 'instant karma', and an odd obsession with his silver hammer. She dismissed them all, since she had enough eccentricities herself not to throw stones. No matter how much of his budget went to silver polish.

The one sticking point they did have was how Maxwell was just throwing away his education. She became aware that he would frequently spend his class time goofing off, playing the fool and becoming known as the class clown.

His classmates Rose and Valarie would always rise to his defense in these situations. They were shallow, only hanging out in the pre-med classes in hopes of wooing a promising young soon-to-be doctor. Maxwell's silly in-class persona appealed to them, and they made every effort to win him over by supporting it.

Joan was extremely annoyed by them, but not jealous in the slightest – she trusted Maxwell not to cheat on her. And to his credit, he didn't.

Tired of arguing, she set Maxwell out of her mind somewhat more than usual. She was close to a breakthrough, she could feel it, and increased the frequency of marathon sessions in her lab. Her system of alarms ensured she brought some food to the lab at least twice a day. She had yet to build an alarm that could ensure she actually ate, and more than a few meals turned into even more interesting experiments.

The phone rang, one night. It was Maxwell, as usual. He invited her to the pictures, commenting that he hadn't heard from her in a while and hoped she wasn't starving. She tried and failed to recall the last time she had eaten, so she agreed to the date. They might smooth things out. And if they didn't, at least the meal would help increase her stamina for another session. But as she was getting ready to go, a knock came at the door. The first blow killed her instantly, before the sound waves could register in her ears, but the unforgettable 'Clang, Clang' of Maxwell's silver hammer was her death knell.


End file.
